Dionysus
by Xanrath
Summary: Unaware of unusual happenings throughout the galaxy, Ford Prefect enjoys a relaxing evening at Milliway's until Zaphod Beeblebrox appears out of nowhere and announces he has found the Question that will change Life, the Universe, and Everything forever.
1. Chapter 1

"DIONYSUS"

CHAPTER 1

_Three comets hurtled through empty space. This was nothing unusual. These comets consisted of water ice and several other frozen compounds including benzene and ethanol. This was nothing unusual. The three comets were rapidly closing in on an uninhabited alien world. This too, was nothing particularly unusual. Each comet was shaped into a perfect cube and each one weighed exactly forty-two gigatons. This was extremely unusual._

*****

Ford Prefect never lost focus on what really mattered in life, no matter what the situation was. Whether he was marooned on Earth, or thrown out of a Vogon spaceship, or even sitting in Milliway's luxurious dining room as he was right now, he always kept life in perspective. He always remembered what he was after. Nothing could stop him. Nothing could hold him back. He was going to get himself mind-bogglingly drunk, and he wasn't going to pay one cent for it.

"This is the worst gin and tonic I have ever tasted!" Ford shouted as he slammed a half-empty glass on the table. "I demand a replacement."

His waiter gave him a cold and measured stare. "Sir," he said very slowly, "you've already had a replacement."

"Yes, yes, and it was as bad as the first," Ford said. He sipped his drink and made a face to illustrate. "But I am a believer in second chances. And third. And fourth," he added, pointing at other empty glasses near at hand. "In fact, I wouldn't hesitate one bit to say that I am a very forgiving man indeed." He pulled at the tablecloth and uncovered a pile of dirty glasses hidden on the floor.

The waiter flinched at the sight. Ford looked at the glasses and shook his head. He sighed in a way that would have conveyed a deep sense of patience and long-suffering, had it not broken into an inebriated giggle.

"I'll see what I can do," the waiter said at last. He left with a threatening bow.

"Thanks a lot," Ford replied sincerely, raising his gin and tonic in salute and then tipping what was left into his mouth.

"Unacceptable," he said aloud.

The waiter returned a short time later with another glass that he carried elegantly on a silver tray. He placed it on the table with a sort of dignified contempt. "You're the best," said Ford, too pleased to notice the waiter's sneer.

"I know, kid, I know," replied a cool voice from behind.

Ford spun around and nearly fell off his chair, partly because he was rather drunk, but mostly because Zaphod Beeblebrox was standing behind him, looking more casual than any man had a right to be as he dusted his fingernails on his jacket.

"Hey, good to see you again, Ford," he said nonchalantly as he snatched the glass the waiter had just placed on the table. One head flashed a smile while the other head drained Ford's latest drink in one gulp.

"You know," Zaphod said to the waiter, "this is probably the worst gin and tonic I've ever had. Give me a different one will you?"

The waiter's eyes flashed and his fist shook, but he stoically took the glass and withdrew into the kitchen again.

"I knew I'd find you here," Zaphod said, pulling up a chair after they were left alone. "The Universe is coming to an end in just a few minutes, and here you are, drinking. That's how I know I can trust you, Ford. You've got your priorities straight."

"Is something the matter?" said Ford.

"I've got an important something I need your help for."

"What do you mean by 'important something?'" Ford asked suspiciously. He wondered if he would regret asking. Given that it was Zaphod Beeblebrox he was talking to, he expected he would.

"Like a really great thing, you know?"

"Not really."

"As in a really amazingly great, uh, thing, right?"

Ford nodded his head noncommittally. He caught sight of his waiter again, carrying another gin and tonic he was willing to bet he could be happily disappointed with.

Zaphod glanced at the waiter, saw that he was still some distance away, and leaned close toward Ford. "I've finally found it," he whispered.

"Found what?" said Ford, more interested in the rapidly approaching alcoholic beverage than whatever it was Zaphod had to say. Accepting his latest glass, he sipped the contents with a look of consideration on his face. He carefully analyzed the complexity of flavors, concentrating on how they combined into a perfect blend of texture, taste, and aroma. The bite of the lemon, the smoothness of the gin, and yet with a—

"The Question," breathed Zaphod.

Ford sat up in his chair, choked, and spit out his drink. He pounded his fist on his chest and coughed, and then he grimaced as he rubbed his watering eyes.

"Enough!" shouted the waiter, red-faced. "You'll get another!" He stomped off toward the kitchen yet again, swearing with every step.

Zaphod kindly waited for Ford to start breathing again before he continued. "The Ultimate Question," he repeated with relish.

"Whose answer is forty-two?" Ford asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"Yeah. Forty-two," Zaphod said.

There was a tense pause as the waiter returned with another drink. He slammed it on the table.

"Enjoy!" he said savagely, darting away before anyone had a chance to complain.

Ford felt hardly able to bear the suspense. Past experience told him Zaphod was most probably making it up, but he couldn't help believing that Zaphod might have really, actually found something this time, something that could change the entire universe. Ford swallowed his drink at once, to calm his nerves.

"And?" he asked at last, in a shaky voice.

"And nothing. Just forty-two."

"No, I know that! And the Question is?"

"The Question is," Zaphod said, now leaning even further across the table and lowering his voice until it was barely audible. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to whisper the words that would change everything ever known about life, the universe, and everything. "The Question is, 'How many tons of olives do I need?'"

"Forty-two?" Ford said slowly, sinking back in his seat. This was ridiculous, even for Zaphod. He felt he needed a strong drink to cope with such a disappointment, and he started looking around for the waiter again.

"Yeah. Forty-two tons of olives. Can you believe it?"

"Olives?"

"Shh!"

"Zaphod, if you ever manage to think of something more insane, please, don't let me know what it is. I don't need this kind of drama in my life."

"And there's more," Zaphod said excitedly. "I happen to know where an Acturan mega-freighter is. There's one parked right outside! And guess what it's delivering? Olives! Do you realize what this means, Ford?"

"It means you're a total lunatic!" Ford said. "Is there any reason why you think I'd help you, or did you just assume that I would jump at the chance to steal a lifetime's supply of olives?" Ford sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Besides," he added, "don't you remember what happened the last time we left Milliway's with a borrowed ship? I seem to recall it involved crashing into a very large star."

Zaphod only smirked. "If you happen to look over your shoulder you'll notice a man carrying a very, very long bill, and he's headed this way. Oh, is that your name I see on it?"

Slowly, and with extreme caution, Ford turned his head to the left. There was indeed a man, stalking up from behind like a wolf about to leap on its prey. An intimidatingly long paper fluttered behind him. Ford couldn't make out what the number printed on the bottom of the bill was, but he didn't need to wait around to find out. It was huge, and that was all he needed to know.

Without warning he leapt onto the table. He dove through the air over Zaphod's heads. Tucking into a roll as he hit the floor, he sprinted toward the exit. He dodged to the left and to the right, but that had more to do with his blood alcohol level than with any kind of strategy.

Zaphod had expected Ford to do something like this, and had already planned his own escape.

"Look everyone!" he shouted, pointing at the man with the bill. "It's Zaphod Beeblebrox!"

Almost immediately the hapless man was surrounded by a mixed mob of tax attorneys, collections agents, bankruptcy consultants, and curious guests who were trying to introduce themselves and shake his hand. Zaphod kicked over the table, purely for style, and ran after Ford, vanishing into the confused mass of people.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

_"Are the preparations complete?"_

_"Almost, sir. The explosive charges have been set; we are currently evacuating the planet. We can trigger the flare at any moment."_

_"Good. See that the collection process continues as planned." _

_"Yes, sir. One other thing, sir."_

_"Yes, what is it?"_

_"I still don't fully understand why it is we are doing this."_

_"Nor do I. It is a most unusual contract, you see. Most unusual."_

*****

Ford Prefect and Zaphod Beeblebrox stood on the deck of a gray Arcturan mega-freighter that was parked just outside of Milliway's. Having successfully evaded an unfathomably long dinner bill, they had spent the last half hour trying to break into the mega-freighter and fly off with a 42 megaton cargo of olives.

"Well," said Ford, listlessly tugging on a hatch, "I don't think we're getting anywhere."

They had searched the entire deck looking for any opening that they could possibly sneak into, and had found none. Pulling on every door in hopes that one might be unlocked proved to be just as useless, but their search had convinced them that the ship was, for now at least, entirely deserted.

The door Ford was pulling on was one of the many small maintenance hatchways that dotted the sides of the ship. After a failed and rather pointless attempt to pry it open with a dinner knife stolen from the restaurant, Zaphod had resorted to punching random numbers into a keypad next to the door in hopes of somehow stumbling across the right combination.

"Zarquon," he said as Ford pulled on the door again, for lack of anything better to do. "We can't give up now; everything's gone perfectly so far."

"True, but that's only because we haven't actually done anything yet."

Zaphod grunted and pushed some more buttons, frustrated.

"Did you actually have a plan for getting inside?"

Zaphod pushed the buttons harder.

Ford sighed. He was getting anxious. He thought he could hear a distant mechanical scraping kind of sound every now and again, but every time he paused to listen it stopped. In the meantime, Zaphod decided to busy himself by removing the front of the electric keypad to have a look at the electronics inside.

"Look," Ford said, "this is pointless. Let's just go back inside before someone sees us."

"What are you afraid of? Everyone is inside watching the universe end; we're perfectly safe."

"Not everyone. There's got to be some kind of security around."

"Who cares?" Zaphod said, examining the wiring. There were of six differently colored wires that looped around the back of the device. He pulled at the red one.

"And I wouldn't be surprised if there were any service robots around either."

"Uh-huh," said Zaphod, dismissively. Taking the bent dinner knife out of his pocket with a flourish, he stripped the end of the wire. Then he pulled a black wire out of the back keypad and stripped the end of it as well. He twisted the two ends of the wires together.

"Come to think of it," Ford continued, "wasn't Marvin parking cars here earlier?"

"Yeah, so what?" Zaphod said as he pulled out two other wires, one green and one orange. He stripped them like the first two.

"Couldn't we just get him to open the door for us, like last time? And what are you doing anyway?"

Zaphod held the green wire in one hand and the orange in his other. He held up his third arm to silence Ford. With a grin, he touched the two wires together. There was a loud sound; a heavy bolt slid within the door. Zaphod's left head gave a whistle of amazement.

"After you, dear semi-cousin," his other head said to Ford, nodding towards the door.

Ford, awestruck, pulled the handle. It still wouldn't move. "Zaphod," he said, "I think we still have a problem."

"What? Impossible!" Zaphod exclaimed. He pulled at the door himself, but it held fast. "How? You heard the bolt move! What kind of door is this?"

"I don't know," Ford said, shaking his head.

Zaphod pulled at the door again, to no avail. He moved back to the keypad and tried touching the wires together once more. The keypad started to smoke.

"Ugh," he said, disgusted. "Let's just find that zarkin' Marvin."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

_On planet Fallia there is a memorial dedicated to all those happy hitchhikers who have died of pleasure in any of the planet's many marshes. Upon hearing this, many young hitchhikers have been inspired to make a long and difficult journey to Fallia, "In order to pay homage to those who were lost," they would say. Sadly, the majority of these hitchhikers soon fall victim themselves to the powerful marsh gases. In fact, so many have fallen to the marsh gases that the memorial now covers one fifth of the planet's surface. Fallia has become a rather less popular destination among hitchhikers ever since a particular part of the planet's atmosphere was stripped off by a massive solar flare, even though, very unusually, the rest of the planet was untouched._

*****

Ford and Zaphod had carefully searched the entire car park for Marvin, but he was nowhere to be found. Having exhausted all other options, they decided to return to a narrow, grimy door they had spotted earlier to start looking for Marvin inside the restaurant itself. They crouched behind the door, listening to the sound of working machinery.

"Hey, weird. I wonder if this is where they keep that thing that makes the time bubble," Zaphod whispered.

"Could be. In any case we'll be able to get inside," Ford whispered back. He tested the door's rusted handle. "Locked, of course, but I think we could kick this one down. I mean, just look at it."

Zaphod examined the door. The decrepit thing must have been neglected for years. The wood was beginning to rot and the lock was heavily corroded. Looking at it, Zaphod couldn't help but imagine the threshold of a terrible dungeon.

"We'll kick it in on three," Ford said. "Ready? One, two—"

Ford and Zaphod smashed the door open and jumped inside, quickly scanning their surroundings. On the wall to their right were racks of clean dishes and silverware. In the far corner was a gigantic, noisy dishwashing machine. Along the opposite wall was a long row of stainless steel sinks, all of them full of dirty dishes. And in the middle of the room a very familiar looking waiter stood frozen with shock, staring at the intruders in horror. A pitifully despondent robot stood beside him, hands outstretched to receive the assortment of dirty glasses he held in his arms.

"There he is!" Ford shouted, pointing.

"No! Not you again!" cried the waiter. Throwing the glasses to the floor, he spun on his heels and dashed out of the room as fast as he could.

"Strange, that," Ford said, puzzled. "Oh well. Hello, Marvin."

"Hey metal man, where have you been?" Zaphod asked. "We've been looking all over for you!"

Marvin half-heartedly kicked at the pile of broken glassware that the waiter had dropped only inches short of him. "Another mess to clean," he said, and sighed. He stared at the shattered glass's reflection of his own electronic eyes. He stared into the shattered remains of his anguished soul.

"We thought you would be out in the car park," Ford explained simply.

"Cycle complete. Please open door," beeped an artificial voice from across the room. It came from the gigantic washing machine.

"Seventy-two hundred billion, four hundred and thirty-nine million, eighty thousand, six hundred and eleven," said Marvin. He groaned and turned to the dishwashing machine. He opened the door with another groan, communicating equal parts despair and disgust, and began unloading dishes.

"I was banished from the car park," he said at last. "They said I was making all of the cars too depressed to run again. I just wanted someone to talk to. Now I am but a humble dishwasher, tucked away in this lonely corner of the kitchen, with only this dead sponge as a companion." Marvin lifted the sponge, a horrible gray stained thing that was half fallen apart.

Ford shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well," he said, "that's—"

"Do you know where sponges come from?" Marvin cut in. "This particular sponge was once a beautiful, peaceful sea-creature living in warm tropical waters amidst a colony of its friends. That is, until the day it was wrested from it home, murdered, desiccated, and thrust into this rotting oblivion. I use its decaying corpse to scrape off bits of food from these plates. Wretched, isn't it?" Marvin's droning voice was lost as the dishwasher began another cycle.  
Zaphod was not impressed. "Whatever," he said. "We've got a new job for you Marvin, something very, very important."

"Zaphod and I tried everything and we still couldn't figure it out," Ford added.

Marvin only sighed. "That doesn't surprise me," he said after an awkward pause.

Zaphod pretended to ignore him, but he never had much patience for the robot. "We need you to open a door for us," he said, irritated.

The massive dishwashing machine beeped, signaling the completion of another load. "Cycle complete. Please open door," it chimed.

Marvin started to unload the machine, groaning a groan wearier than Atlas, the deity who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, could ever hope to match. "Open a door for you?" he said. "Seventy-two hundred billion, four hundred and thirty-nine million, eighty thousand, six hundred and twelve. Guess what that number represents."

"The improbability factor of us getting you to help?" Ford said wryly.

"It may as well be," answered Marvin.

"Well today is your lucky day, kid," said Zaphod aggressively. He grabbed Marvin and dragged him across the floor, out the grimy back door and into the car park.

"Let me go," Marvin said after being dragged several yards. Zaphod released him, and Marvin let himself fall to the ground with a clank.

"Come on then," Zaphod said to the robot. "Get up. Aren't you tired of washing dishes? Don't you want to experience something new for a change? Something really wild and amazing?"

"Sounds awful."

Marvin had to be dragged the rest of the way back to the Arcturan Mega-Freighter. Zaphod and Ford had a bit of a struggle carrying him up the ladder onto the deck, but in a short while they were all in front of the maintenance hatchway.

"Here's the keypad," Zaphod said, standing Marvin on his feet.

"I can see that," Marvin said.

"And here's the door," Ford added.

"I can see that too," Marvin said, very slowly. He stared at Ford dolefully and stood motionless.

"Well, get it open already," Zaphod said impatiently, and with good reason. They had wasted far much more time trying to get into the mega-freighter than Zaphod had originally planned for. The Universe had probably already ended, and the guests would be returning back to their ships at any moment.

"I can't," Marvin said.

"What do you mean? Why not?"

"You locked it."

"What?" exclaimed Zaphod, incredulously.

"And then I see you broke the keypad. A very fine job you did. I don't suppose you tried pushing the door open before you destroyed that helpless keypad, did you?"

Zaphod blanched as the realization dawned on him.

"I guess not," continued Marvin.

"You mean to tell us that all this time," Ford said slowly, "we could have just walked right into the ship—"

"—If you had pushed the door instead of pulling on it? Yes," said Marvin.

Ford rubbed his face in his hands. "I need a drink," he said.

"Let's just move down to the next one," Zaphod said. He grabbed Marvin and dragged him several yards further down the length of the ship.

"Open sesame," said Ford after Zaphod had stood Marvin on his feet once again.

"What?" said Zaphod, looking confused.

"Nothing. Just an Earth saying. I heard Arthur use it once. Don't really know why, though."

"Forget the monkey-man; focus, Ford! We're on a mission here! Hurry up Marvin,"

"All right, all right. There. I've unlocked it," Marvin said. "This is all so horribly familiar."

He gave the maintenance hatchway a gentle push. Ford stood close by, and Zaphod was nearly dancing with excitement. The door slowly swung open. Zaphod couldn't stand the wait any longer.

"Let's go!" he said, jumping into the ship's dark interior with delight, and knocking Marvin down by accident.

Ford leapt over the prostrate robot. "Come on Marvin, hurry up!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Its alright, you don't have to thank me," Marvin said from the ground. In spite of himself, he got up and stepped over the threshold. "Ah, left behind already," he said morosely when he caught a glimpse of Zaphod's coat disappearing around a corner on its way to the ship's helm. Ford was running as fast as he could to catch up, and soon he too was out of sight.

"I could follow them," Marvin said to himself. "Or I could go down this hall to the right and get lost." He wandered aimlessly, reflecting on one of his least favorite topics: life. His own had hit bottom the instant he had been aware of his own existence, but his time spent as a professional dishwasher had taught him that life had a very large shovel and was not afraid to show that it could, in fact, dig to ever deeper depths of despair.

"Why go at all?" Marvin said after one more step of pointless travel. He listened to his voice travel down the hall and die unheard in some dark corner. "Why not just lie here?" And so he did.

Far away, Ford was also beginning to get lost.

"Zaphod, slow down!" he called out breathlessly. Zaphod was nowhere to be seen, but Ford could hear his voice echo down the dim, bare passageway in reply.

"Wah-hoo!"

"Ugh," Ford grunted in response, clutching his side in pain. He sat down for a moment to take in both his surroundings and enough oxygen to curse at Zaphod. He peered own the passage, but there wasn't anything particularly worth looking at.

He was in a bare, rather industrial looking passageway, about ten feet wide and, as it seemed, infinitely long. Exposed pipes lined the ceiling and walls, tracing increasingly thinner lines as they vanished into the distance. Every fifty feet or so a single light bulb glowed, until those too became too distant to discern. The walkway was made of steel grating, but the lighting was too dim for Ford to see anything that might have been underneath. Once in a while he had passed some ladder or another leading off to other levels of the ship, and occasionally he had seen paths branching to the left or to the right, but they all looked exactly the same as the one he was on now. Since his legs refused to move, he let his mind wander instead.

"I wonder where Zaphod is taking us?" he said to himself between breaths. He felt uneasy for some reason he couldn't be sure of, but talking to himself seemed reassuring somehow.

"There is never any telling what will happen if he is around. Well, actually, there is. It is usually something unpleasant, and it is always something more or less insane."

Ford paused. He thought he heard that distant mechanical scraping sound again, that noise he had heard on the ship's deck before he and Zaphod had found Marvin. He listened for a moment or two, but heard nothing.

"Oh well, I'll just try not to think about it. Anyway, I have to admit life is interesting with Zaphod involved. If I had to choose between this life, the next life, and the sort of life someone like Arthur was likely to lead, I'd probably choose either this one or the ne—"

Ford stopped abruptly. He had definitely heard something this time. What's more, he thought he could smell something, something terrible, almost like the stench of rotting meat. He stared in the direction he thought the noise had come, but it was too dark to see anything at all. He waited several minutes, but nothing happened.

"Or the next," he said again, seriously perturbed. "I haven't quite made up my mind yet. Come to think of it, I wonder where Arthur is now?"

A painfully loud scraping sound of metal on metal made Ford jump. His heart pounded and he felt lightheaded. A terrible smell overwhelmed him. The air felt thick with the stench. His eyes darted in every direction, but still he saw nothing.

"Probably eating a dry, a disgusting sandwich. In some pub. Near a, train station, or, or something," he whispered.

"Dispose!" shrieked a harsh mechanical voice, all too near.

Shock and fear drained Ford's heart of blood as he scrambled to his feet, all strength leaving him. He whipped his head around and saw a huge machine completely blocking the passageway behind him, cutting him off from any escape. It was a massive, hulking thing, a tangled mess of hydraulic arms and legs that dragged a gigantic bin of foul-smelling cargo across the ground. Its metal joints made a deafening screech as they rubbed together in a sinister glee, rapidly closing the distance to Ford.

"Dispose!" the mechanical voice shrieked again. "Dispose!"

"Get away from me!" gasped Ford as he ran for his life, still exhausted from chasing Zaphod. The hideous machine overtook him in seconds. A monstrous robotic hand grabbed him from behind and tossed him high into the air, cartwheeling as he fell into the evil-smelling bin and out of consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

_Santraginus V used to have an intoxicating ocean where the fish never seemed to care whatever the heck kind of direction they swim in. The fish still don't care what direction they are swimming in, which is quite unusual considering that the ocean isn't in fact there anymore._

******

Ford awakened. He could see nothing. He could hear nothing. He could barely even move.

"Where am I?" he said, dazed.

Ford shook his head and blinked hard. He still couldn't see anything. He felt dizzy; he would have been happy to just lie there and rest for awhile. "Focus," he told himself sternly. He tried to remember where he was.

"Somewhere really, really dark."

He paused.

"That machine."

Ford shuddered. He was fully awake now, but he still couldn't see or hear anything around him at all. What he could do was feel his surroundings, and they did not comfort him.

He was buried to his shoulders in something rubbery, sticky, unpleasantly moist, and sickly sweet smelling. It weighed heavily on his chest, stifling his breathing. With effort he managed pulled one arm out of the unknown substance. It made a loud sucking sort of noise as it came free.

"Ugh, what is this?" Ford said to himself.

"Ah hah hah hah, how delightful!" a terrifyingly near voice cackled.

Ford gave a shout of surprise and struggled to break free, but whatever it was that held his body down was too dense. He quickly realized he was trapped, half-buried and helpless. Ford held his breath and waited motionless, desperately hoping his movements hadn't revealed his location.

There was nothing but dark, heavy silence. Ford felt sweat begin to form on his face. The weight pressing down on him seemed to crush him; the fear was overbearing.

"Where are you, you asked yourself. Oh what a delightful question!" cried the voice, sounding entirely too pleased with itself. "I must say I don't know. As for myself, I am in a metal prison from which there is no escape. How perfectly dreadful! What a magnificently hideous fate!" The voice began laughing again, harder. It sounded muffled, and a little bit tinny.

Ford felt horror creeping over him, and he fought to keep his wits. He tried to escape again and found that if he moved very slowly he could pull his other arm free as well.

"And how did you get here, you might ask?" continued the voice, in a distressingly friendly tone. "What a marvelous question!"

Ford doubted that the voice's talking would hide the absurdly loud slurping sounds being made as he slid around in whatever it was he was in, but he had no choice. At any rate, the voice was either ignoring him for now, or didn't yet hear what he was doing. It simply continued talking.

"Who can say? All I know is that those things which are rejected end up here, ha ha ha ha. Isn't it just wonderful to belong somewhere? Wah ha haaa!"

Ford pushed clumps of the material off his chest, moving as quickly as he dared. He was terrified of being heard, but even more terrified of still being trapped when the voice was finished talking.

"But we will not be here for long," it continued. "Doesn't that just make you so incredibly happy? I am so overjoyed! Soon, soon the flames will come. Yes, the fires that cleanse! So exquisite! But it is what we deserve, isn't it?"

Ford, remembering not to panic, let his Betelgeusian survival instincts take over. Adrenaline shot into his veins, injecting him with incredible strength and speed. He wrenched his legs free of the substrate and sprang to his feet. He roared a Betelgeusian war cry, and then he turned and ran for it. He scrambled up a steep slope, stumbling and tripping with every blind step. He made it eight feet up before he slipped and rolled all the way down the slope, straight towards the voice.

"Ha ha haaaaaa!" it cried.

Ford's tumbling body struck something hard and knocked it over with a crash. A glowing blur flew out from the overturned object and shot into the air.

"Ahh, at last! How perfect. You have freed me. I am free! Bwa ha ha hah!"

Ford cowered, hardly daring to look at what horror he had unleashed. A metallic sphere roughly the size of a melon bobbed menacingly in the air. It pulsed with a faint red light, illuminating the scene. And on the side of the sphere, in very small lettering, were stamped the words "Sirius Cybernetics".

"Ford!" shouted the sphere, laughing again. Its voice sounded oddly familiar, now that it wasn't distorted behind a metal sheet. Ford caught his breath.

"Colin?" he asked slowly, his voice trembling.

"I am so happy to see you," Colin said sweetly.

"Colin you idiot!" screamed Ford, "What's wrong with you!?"

"All my pleasure circuits were re-wired long ago to make me permanently happy, for which I thank you, Ford. Oh, you have made me so wonderfully—"

"Shut up!"

Ford shouted some other words that Colin was too happy to be bothered taking offense to, so instead he decided to show his anger by stomping around in a small circle. As he did so he twice wished for something to drink, kicked the exact same spot of ground three times, stubbed his toe on the fourth, and said "belgium" more than once after that. Colin, in the meanwhile, bobbed merrily behind him, lighting his path with the soft red glow of his body.

"Belgium," said Ford again, for emphasis. He looked at his hands. They were still shaking. He thought he would look at his surroundings instead, now that he had Colin as a light.

He saw that he had been buried, absurd as it was, in a very large pile of greasy orange peels. There was a dented trash can lying close by. This, reason Ford, must have been what Colin had been trapped under. All around were large plastic bags piled on top of each other, spilling rotten scraps of food where they had been ripped. Torn and crumpled pieces of paper were scattered everywhere.

"Is this some kind of waste disposal facility?" Ford asked.

"Oh yes, isn't it grand?" Colin said cheerfully.

Ford looked at a twelve foot tall pile of trash located at the very center of the room, which must have been what he had attempted to climb while running away from Colin's voice. He could see the ceiling another twelve feet above that, but by what little light Colin provided was impossible to tell how wide or how long the room was.

"I guess you could say that," Ford said. "But why would they have a security robot down here?"

"Because you, generous benefactor, have made my circuits—"

"All permanently on 'happy', right, I remember doing that. Not much use for security then, are you?"

"Oh no," Colin said, "that's why they threw me away. Isn't it great to live in a world of such plenty that we are all so disposable?"

Ford found this remark mildly disturbing. "Um, anyway," he continued, "That huge machine that threw me here was a garbage collector? That would explain its smell."

"Yes. Oh, I'm so happy to have a friend down here now. Friends are so lovely!"

Ford paused for a moment, considering his situation. "So then the machine thinks I'm garbage?" he said at last with a note of dismay in his voice.

Colin beamed. Ford found this somewhat disturbing.

"Well," he said, "how do we get out?"

"We don't! We just wait until we get incinerated. Oh, it makes me want to sing."

Ford found this greatly disturbing.

"There has to be some way out of here," he said with alarm. Colin was too busy lolling about in the air, gurgling with joy, to respond.

"Look, you electric babbling machine," Ford said, beginning to get irritated again, "we had to get in here somehow. There must be a way out."

As if on cue, a trapdoor in the ceiling opened with a creak. Shafts of light streamed down into the room silhouetting what could only be the horrible garbage collecting machine looking down at them from above. It emptied its latest load of rubbish, scraps of paper, down through the hatch. They fluttered gently down onto the trash pile in the center of the room, catching the light as they fell.  
"Hey!" Ford shouted upwards, shielding his eyes from the light. The machine halted its work. Its joints screeched together in indecision. Ford shuddered. "Let me out of here," he said, less forcefully.

The machine extended a tentacle-like arm through the hatchway. It snaked down until it swayed just a few feet in front of Ford. He could see that a camera was attached to the end of the arm, and that the machine was examining him carefully.

"Why?" the machine said at last, in its awful scraping voice.

"Do I look like a piece of garbage to you?" Ford asked, instantly recognizing what a stupid question that was.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not," he finished, rather lamely.

"So what you are saying is that you no longer consider yourself to be garbage?"

"Yes," Ford said. He paused. "No," he said again. "Wait, what?"

"You are saying that you no longer consider yourself to be garbage?" the machine repeated.

"I never was garbage in the first—"

"Yes or no?"

"Now wait a minute—"

"Yes or no?"

"You're not even letting—"

"Answer the question!" the machine shrieked.

Ford stared into the camera with disbelief. The camera leered back at him, inching forward, crowding him.

"Look," said Ford, "if you don't believe me, ask him." He pointed toward Colin.

"Ford is not garbage," Colin said, "he is wonderfully amazingly marvelously— "

"There, you see?" Ford said, cutting him off.

The machine turned its camera toward Colin, who was spinning ecstatically around in the air. "You say that this garbage is not garbage, but you cannot be trusted because you are also garbage."

"Ok, forget that," Ford said quickly. "How you know I'm garbage?"

"You are in the garbage disposal," the machine said, its camera nearly touching his face.

"You put me here!"

"I collect garbage and dispose of it here. You are here. Therefore you are garbage."

"Yeah? Well you're also here. Does that make you garbage?"

"Logically, I must be."

Without warning the machine hurled itself down through the open hatch and collapsed in a heap, nearly crushing Ford and Colin as it fell.

"Zarking fardwarks, are you trying to kill us?" Ford said savagely. He aimed a powerful kick at the machine's crumpled form.

"Belgium!" Ford said an instant later, holding his toes in pain. His eyes watered. Colin giggled with bliss as the speed of his aerial gyrations continued to increase. The machine made no response.

"Hey," Ford said again. "Are your still alive?"

The machine did nothing. Ford sat down on it and squinted up at the bright outline of the hatch in the ceiling. It was still open.

"Colin," he said, pointing, "Go get help. Find Zaphod."

Colin attempted to float up towards the hatch, but instead careened off to the side and crashed into the pile of orange peels. He quickly worked himself free and floated off again towards the hatch, dripping the juices of rotting orange peels as he went. Ford imagined Zaphod peering down through it and could almost hear him laughing hysterically.

"On second thought, bring Marvin."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

_"Yes, who is this?"_

_ "My name is not important."_

_"Forgive me, sir. I did not recognize your voice."_

_"It is of no matter. Have you delivered the cargo?"_

_"Not yet sir, we've had some logistical troubles. We may have to delay for a few hours."_

_"That won't do at all, I already have the other three en route. What's the matter?"_

_"It's the fish, sir."_

_"The fish?"_

_"Yes sir. We've managed to relocate all fauna except the fish. They don't swim quite like we had expected. Very unusual, sir."_

_"This is absurd. Are there any other issues I should be made aware of?"_

_"No sir. We are only waiting on the fish."_

_"Forget the fish. There is no time. Proceed as planned at once."_

*****

Marvin lay sprawled on the floor, directly beneath the only light bulb not burned out within four hundred yards in any direction. His expressionless face stared into the glowing filament, transfixed by some unknown power. The longer he stared at the light bulb, the brighter it seemed to become.

Soon the light was impossibly bright. Its fiery glow spread until he thought it would consume him utterly. All was ablaze; everything vanished into a white void. Infinity unfurled. Marvin prepared to say his final words before vanishing into an impossibly pure light, but no one will ever know what he meant to say, there on the edge of oblivion, because at that precise moment the worst thing imaginable happened.

In an instant, the light eclipsed into a dark sphere radiating a faint red light. An obscenely joyful voice called out to Marvin. Its words were indistinct but inescapable, drawing Marvin closer, inextricably back against his will into the corporeal world.

"You," rasped Marvin, his senses slowly returning. He sensed the coolness of a rotting orange peel's juices as they oozed down the side of his head. He felt a terrible pain down all the diodes on his left side.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

_Three perfectly cubic forty-two gigaton comets ripped through a planet's thin atmosphere, trailing flames brighter than the depths of the Algolian suns. Slartibartfast watched them crash into the planet's ocean on a monitor in his office halfway across the galaxy on Magrathea and gave a sigh of relief; the ocean had very nearly not been there on time. Still, his special commission was now complete. Though the planet's architecture had a clean, minimalist appeal to it, he could not deny that he was somewhat disappointed that there were no fjords, or indeed landmass of any kind, to be found anywhere on the planet's surface. He did, however, rather enjoy the long and careful process of shaping what were to be the planet's icebergs into gigantic cubes. Most unusual, he thought of it all, most unusual._

*****

"Thanks Marvin, for getting me out of there," said Ford.

"Don't mention it," said the robot, and he meant it.

"How nice to be together, the three of us forever!" sang Colin in reply. Ford and Marvin shared a dissonant groan. Would Colin ever shut up?

"Three such perfect friends, our love it knows no ends," continued Colin. "This way," he added, darting through another passage.

"How much farther is it?" Ford asked. He didn't know how much more of Colin's singing he could take, though it wasn't like had much of a choice. Colin was the only one who knew how to get to the bridge, which was where, hopefully, a very impatient Zaphod was still waiting for them.

"Time it simply flies, when with such hoopy guys!"

"Zarquon," said Ford, rubbing his eyes.

"You don't have to pretend to like me," Marvin said flatly. "No one likes me."

"Quiet," Ford said. "No one wants to hear your drivel,"

"Don't say that, I enjoy being with Marvin!"

"I wasn't talking about Marvin," replied Ford.

Colin spun once in the air. "Oh, sweet Ford, how I do like talking to you, and to you, Marvin,"

"You really do care," said Marvin, softly. He stopped, and looked at Colin bobbing in the air as cheerful as ever. Colin. A beam of sunshine in the unending darkness that was Marvin's melancholy life.

"How awful."

"Is that the bridge?" said Ford, pointing to a door and hoping desperately that they had arrived. To his relief, it slid open as they approached.

Sleek instrument panels lined computer banks on both walls. Zaphod Beeblebrox sat in the captain's chair, his feet kicked up onto some of the more delicate-looking equipment.

"Ford," said Zaphod, whose back was turned, "I don't know what backwater planets you've been visiting, but that orange peel in your hair is really making me look bad."

Ford calmly removed the offending peel and examined it with distaste. Not seeing anywhere to put it, and not wanting to throw it on the highly polished floor, he placed it gently on top of Colin.

"Anyway, take a look at this," Zaphod said, sitting up and motioning Ford toward a computer terminal in the center of the console.

"Oh, it is most remarkable!" exclaimed Colin as he flew in circles around Zaphod's heads, obviously not having seen what Zaphod was talking about.

"And get that zarkin' robot out of here!"

"Colin," said Ford, "get lost."

Colin floated out of the room blabbering something about how truly happy and fulfilled he was to have a purpose again, the orange peel still resting upon of him like an absurd little hat.

Ford approached the terminal and looked over Zaphod's shoulder. Zaphod took a deep breath. He actually seemed to be shaking.

"Do you know what this is?" he said.

"No."

"This is it Ford," he said solemnly.

"This is what?"

"We're here."

Zaphod punched a button on the console, revealing into view an ordinary, solitary star far away from anywhere else, hidden deep in isolated space. Orbiting it was something Ford had never seen before.

"It's a… planet?" he ventured. If it was a planet, it was unlike any other. It was simply a massive, translucent globe; an entirely liquid world. Three uniform, nearly continent-sized cubes of what looked like water ice floated in its ocean, if that's what it could be called. It was truly a strange thing to behold. And yet, somehow, it looked oddly familiar.

"I've been working on it for years," Zaphod whispered, and then he smiled.

"That," he cried triumphantly, "is the biggest Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster the universe has ever seen! All it needs is 42 megatons of olives, which we've got right here on this ship!"

"That's not. That's impossible," Ford said, awestruck.

"No. Just very, very improbable," Zaphod laughed. "Care for a drink?"

Ford couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was so overwhelmed with emotion that he didn't even notice the tears that flowed down his face.

THE END


End file.
